Alicia may have been right. Philip had no way of knowing what time would make of his marriage to Anna. But it was like he had told her—there was no room for doubt now. And he did not doubt that Anna was a diamond who had unluckily fallen into his hands.
“There is nothing you can say to convince me to abandon my loyalties to Anna,” he persisted. “I have made a vow to her on this day—and it is one I intend to honor for as long as we both live.”
“How very principled…” Alicia took a step back, seething. “And yet how strange that your morals shift depending on your mood. One moment you are the selfless colonel disfiguring himself to protect his country, the next you are nothing more than a rake pursuing a woman almost ten years younger than you despite knowing you had no interest in marrying her.”
Philip shook his head and began walking away. “I do not need to take this from you,” he said. “I am returning to my wife. Do as you wish, Miss Walford.”
He stopped when he heard voices in the distance, drifting past the house. He was trapped. And Alicia was far from done, coming to stand in front of him.
“Yes, that’s just like you. Walking away. Perhaps if youhadmore integrity, chosen to be one man or the other, things would not have turned out the way they have. You were the same when you courted me. Hot and cold. Too fickle to commit yourself to anything—not even this conversation.”
Philip bristled at his charges, in part because she was right. Had he been more restrained with Anna, none of this would have happened.
“And Anna? Well, I suppose you’re at least alike in that regard,” Alicia scoffed, continuing her tirade. “She hasn’t the first idea of who she is. The most fulfilling thing she has done in her whole life is pretend to be me for an evening. That night at the opera was just the beginning of the end… Maybe that’s what you see in her, what has made this whole farce tolerable. The shadow of me, living within her.”
“What?” Philip paused, and his anger gave way to terror. “The two of you could not be more dissimilar, and I reject any notion that my interest in her was left over from interest in you. There was no interest—has never been any interest. I should have made that clear from the beginning, even at the cost of your feelings.”
Alicia’s demeanor shifted, a fire sparking inside her. She hadn’t liked that comparison, the fact that she had been unable to tempt Philip with all her tricks and wit, while Anna had charmed him effortlessly simply by being herself.
“But your accusation, about Anna…” Philip’s chest rose and fell with ragged breaths. “What are you talking about? The opera?”
“Ah. It seems she cannot be trusted to tell you everything. Allow me to enlighten you. On the evening you attendedTacredi, I was too unwell to perform my first scene. Anna had come down to see me before the show, and she agreed to sing in my place while I recovered backstage. You should have seen the way her face lit up when she returned.
“Just like that, I knew that she had always wanted to be me, and at that moment, had become me. So perhaps I got it wrong. Maybeshetook an interest inyoubecause if she could not have my career, she could at least relive a moment of my past by acquainting herself with you instead.”
The latter half of Alicia’s reply went unheard. Philip shook his head softly, wishing she had been lying.
Annahad sung that evening. It had beenhervoice that had stirred him, not Alicia’s. But that wasn’t all.
“I had thought…” His throat was dry, and he gripped his cravat to loosen it. “At the opera…”
There was no point in telling Alicia the truth: that he had encountered Anna that night and assumed she had returned from a tryst. That singular event had given him enough permission to flirt with her—consciously or subconsciously—to let her in, mistakenly believing that she wasn’t as innocent as she had claimed. And if she hadn’t been perfect, if she had a dark past, then their marriage wasn’t built on a difference in morality.
But Philip had been wrong.She was perfect, innocent. And he had just condemned her, an angel, to a lifetime at his side.
“I’ll let you think on what I’ve said,” Alicia declared airily, alerting him to her departure. “It may be that I have come too late to prevent this travesty, and I will have to live with that. But I would be on my guard if I were you… I do not easily part with the things I want most.”
* * *
Anna pressed herself against a large oak at the border of the courtyard. The bark scratched her hands while she watched Philip and Alicia through the gaps between the trees.
What am I even watching for? Some proof that Alicia was right? The moment he leans in and kisses her?
Her stomach churned, and she pressed her head against the trunk. She had kept her eyes fixed on them, losing them from time to time as they oscillated between the thin birches around them. They were speaking loudly, but still too quietly for her to hear. Something was wrong, and it was more evidence that Alicia had been telling the truth about her and Philip—about their history.
When she saw no signs of their discussion ending, she turned back toward the house. What was the point in tormenting herself further? She had seen enough.
The sounds of celebration echoed through Bristol Park. Anna forced a neutral expression as she rejoined the guests. She spotted her friends on the dance floor, dark-haired Margaret dancing with a handsome gentleman, and a vision of Philip and Alicia flashed before her eyes.
She bumped into one of the tables, rattling the china table settings. George glanced up at her from his seat, laughing softly at her poor footing. He was a welcome sight, and Anna took the chair beside him. She leaned against him for support, breathing in the comforting smell of the only man she could trust.
“Long morning?” he asked, looking down at her lovingly.
“Yes,” she replied. “And I’d rather not talk about it.”
“We could discuss these dry croissants instead.” He poked one with the end of his fork and banged it against his plate. “Are there no decent bakehouses in Bath?”
Anna laughed, smiling when he patted her head.
